


Just A Moment

by Between_A_Dream



Series: The Taglarin Mythic BuffyVerse [9]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Mention of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 17:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9669380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Between_A_Dream/pseuds/Between_A_Dream
Summary: Tara takes a moment, just a moment, to remember.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I'm sorry it's been so long, but I've been going through a lot lately and I plan to update more. I hope this makes up for the lost time!

Tara wasn't sure what made her think of it. She wasn't sure she ever would either.

It was late- She didn't know the time specifically, but it was before 10 and after 9- And the sky was dark with night.

She was in Willow's bed, the auburn haired Wiccan's arms draped delicately around her waist, and the blonde had simply allowed her blue eyes to scan the room in the dark.

Nothing out of the ordinary from the countless other time she had been there. Pictures, curtains, window, walls, ceiling, floor. Yep. All the essentials.

And then it hit her.

It was the first time in awhile that the blonde witch had thought of her and the first in an even longer while that she didn't completely push the thought out of her mind.

It had been a few years, but Tara still remembered her every feature perfectly. Standing at exactly 5'6. Blue eyes and blonde hair- Not dissimilar to Tara's own features. A warm, radiant smile that could light up an entire room. There was no question by anyone as far as looks had gone of their relation.

Tara chose to remember the woman as she was before the abuse, before the magic, before her father decided that he couldn't love either of them if they accepted themselves and their powers. Happy. Healthy. Still loved by more than one of her children. Still loved by her family.

Her death hadn't been sudden.

Tara loved her mother dearly, but she was well aware of the addiction.

At first, it hadn't started that way. The magic her mother started with had been protection, keeping Tara safe from her father, especially when he found out she had powers as well.

However, as time went on, she used magic more frequently and freely. Soon, she became dependent on it, and slowly her health and control started deteriorating.

She knew magic would kill her. Tara knew it too.

Still, the young blonde had been a wreck. The only person in the universe who had loved her was gone, and she didn't know how to handle it.

But now, she didn't need to. She had passed the stage of grieving, and any feelings she had left towards her mother were positive. Mostly.

She still felt sad to talk about her, but she didn't have it in her to let herself open up the wound and grieve like she had never been able to do as a teenager.

It wasn't the thought of her mother directly that made the blue eyed witch try to forget her or her death. It was what she did in response to her death that made Tara push any thoughts of her deceased mother away.

It wasn't until she felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized she had tears on her face. Wiping them quickly and forcing her breath to stay even, she turned to look at her half asleep girlfriend.

"Everything okay?" she mumbled sleepily, forcing her eyes to at least stay half open.

"Yeah, fine," the blonde lied quickly, pressing a kiss against her cheek. Willow wasn't having any of it, and she roused herself from the comforts of sleep to sit up and meet her lover's eyes.

"You're a terrible liar," she raised an eyebrow and offered a teasing, wry smile, and something about the way she looked at Tara caused the blue eyed witch to collapse into tears.

Willow was surprised at the reaction, to say the least, her smile quickly leaving her face to be replaced with an expression of severe concern, but she didn't question anything as she pulled her lover into her arms and held her close.

Any number of things could be upsetting Tara, and the ginger Wiccan was indeed curious, but she wouldn't force the crying girl to say anything she didn't want to. So instead, she simply pulled her close and leaned back, running her hand soothingly through the soft blonde locks.

Tara was not in the dorm room anymore. She wasn't anywhere, really, but her own mind.

She was seventeen again, sitting in her bed and reading a spell book, a task she wouldn't dare perform unless alone in the house.

When she heard the sound of her father's beat up truck rolling through the driveway, no doubt on their way back from their visit to her mother in the hospital, she was quick to secure her book inside the hidden box in her closet and pick up a text book. She flipped to a random page and let her eyes start scanning the paper.

Tara hadn't bothered going with them. Doctors hadn't been able to explain what was wrong with her, and she knew they never would. It was magic that was killing her, not a medical problem.

The ignorance of humans sometimes bothered her.

Still, she was not surprised when the diagnosis had come back as cancer, if for no other reason than to call it something.

So, for the past five months, her mother had been stuck in the hospital, her health and mind slowly dwindling. Tara had hoped that her disuse of magic would help, but as she saw it getting worse she knew it was too late. She had already said her goodbyes, hard as they may have been.

When she heard her father open the door, she expected there to be some kind of noise. Moving, taking, maybe even laughing. She wasn't sure why she would expect that, even from them, but she expected _something_.

Instead, the house was engulfed in silence.

"Tara?" It was the only thing that broke the unbearable reserve.

The tone was soft, concerned. Not as much as it should have been, considering the words she would hear next, but there was some spark of emotion.

When she was downstairs she could see real sorrow in her dad's eyes, something that to call rare was an understatement.

She didn't need to hear the words. She knew by the way her father was looking at her. Still, when she did hear them- "Mom's dead,"- From Donny, not her dad, she couldn't stop the tears.

She knew this was coming. She knew her mother didn't have much time left. And she knew that despite the sudden reaction her family was having, they didn't care. Or if they did, they wouldn't for long. Tara could feel anger, real true anger boiling under her skin.

She didn't speak, instead turning and running back up to her room before slamming the door. She didn't care if she got yelled at. She turned back around to lock the door and saw that it had already locked itself.

Electricity burned through her fingertips, and she loved it. She knew this feeling, though she had never experienced it personally, at least not with magic. This was the feeling of having no rules, no guidance, no limits.

Images swirled past her, buzzing in her head and wracking her body with pain.

She was six, watching her mother perform magic for the first time, asking questions and observing with enchanted eyes. She had questioned everything that day, her eyes full of light and hope and wonder.

Her mother had explained all there was to know about magic- It's boundaries and rules, it's power and control, it's beauty and grace.

She had given Tara her first spell book that night as well, something Tara had kept and highly treasured.

Then she was eight, performing her first spell, her mother beside her and guiding her through. It was a simple spell really, nothing more than levitation, but she was terrified.

Through the spell she sat across from her mother, their hands clutched tightly to each other, a piece of paper in between.

Her mother whispered the words of the spell under her breath, words Tara was too young to comprehend or pronounce, and when she opened her eyes she was delighted at the sight of the paper floating in front of her.

Her parents had fought that night. It was the first of many, and it was when her mother started losing her control.

Now Tara was thirteen, watching her parents fight from the crack in her bedroom door. They fought more and more as time went on, and the fights became more and more physical.

She jumped as her father struck the blonde Wiccan, watched as the woman before her became someone she didn't recognize. Watched as her body became the embodiment of darkness, and overcome with magic.

Her mother picked the man up with one hand and threw him across the room with ease, his body trembling with bolts of electricity. Despite this, he laughed, joy absent from his voice.

"You think this is what Tara should see? What she should be around? You're nothing but a demon. It's all you are and all you'll ever be. If you let Tara practice, it's all she'll ever be either."

That was the first time she witnessed the real power of magic. She was fully aware her mother used plenty of it, and that she was incredibly powerful, but she never realized how big of a hold it had on her.

It was also the first time she heard of the curse, but it definitely wouldn't be the last.

When she was fifteen was when she knew. She had walked in on her mother lying on her bed whispering to herself. Her eyes were clouded, with a ghost like film glassed over the irises.

"Mom?" Tara received no answer, so she decided to make her way inside.

"Mom?" She had been cautious in her approach, and when she was in vicinity her mother reached out and gripped tightly at her wrist.

Her nails were digging into Tara's skin, and she tried desperately to pull away.

"Mom! Stop please!" Tara begged, pulling as hard as she could. When her mother let go the impact forced the blonde Wiccan backwards.

"Tara... Tara I'm... I'm so sorry, I... Oh god I'm so sorry..." within an instant her mother was back to her old self, but Tara knew.

Her mother was slowly losing herself to the magic, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

The images faded slowly.

Tara could feel the love she had for her mother being literally transformed into something dark, and it fueled her. A crooked smile made its way upon her pale lips.

Her eyes lost their color, and her hair let itself be draped in black. She could hear every inch of her body screaming to give in to the temptation.

And she wanted to.

She wanted to let herself succumb to the darkness clawing it's way through her. She wanted to let herself collapse into comforting arms. She wanted to forget this feeling.

She could feel darkness whispering to her, begging her to let it control her, begging her to let go of her will. She could let it happen. She could let go of her pain. She could take it out on those who would never love her, who would never understand.

Nothing else mattered. Her mother was dead. She wanted this.

She needed this.

Her door opened, and she saw her father standing there, Donny by his side. The older man looked at her with disappointment, something she had grown used to over the years.

"Tara, you need to stop," his voice was laced not with concern, not with fear, not with worry. The only emotion she could place to his tone was demand.

The blonde witch felt her body screaming, and though she was boiling under the surface, she spoke with a soft coolness to her voice.

"Make me."

Before she had a chance to react, before she had a chance to fully use her power, she stopped.

"This isn't right."

The voice was not hers. In fact, Tara wasn't even sure there was a voice to begin with. But she could swear she recognized the words and how they were spoken.

"Tara, you need to stop."

Her mother. The voice was her mother.

"I don't want to."

It felt strange to defy the woman. Tara had never before in her life disobeyed her mother. But her mother was gone, so now that didn't matter.

"Tara, please. Don't do this."

The request angered the young witch.

"Why?"

Why should she stop herself?

Wasn't this their destiny? Wasn't she rooted in evil? Wasn't her mother as well? Wasn't she supposed to let magic consume her, like it had her mother for all those years?

Why should she have to obey the rules, when the only guide she ever had didn't?

"Tara, please don't do this."

"Tell me why!"

This was how it was supposed to be. It had to be. Right?

"Because I love you."

The raven haired girl felt her body lurch forward, and she collapsed on the ground.

She could hear screaming echoing in her head and when she opened her eyes there were tears on her face.

She looked up, feeling the darkness fleeing from her body. It felt like she was bleeding all over. She coughed, and could see loose strands of her hair, now fading back to their natural blonde color.

Her hands were nearly blue, her face pale and her lips chapped. If taken out of context, one could have assumed she had been standing in snow.

Her father and Donny stood over her, disappointed looks on their faces. Her father was the only one to speak, and the words hit her hard in the chest.

"Just like your mother."

* * *

When Tara opened her eyes, she was trembling. She looked around, trying to figure out where she was. This wasn't her bedroom.

"Tara?" That voice.

Willow.

Willow was there, her arms secured tightly around the blonde. Tara looked up at her, tears streaming down her face. The ginger Wiccan was quick to wipe them, whispering comforting nothings into her ear and running her delicate fingers through the long blonde locks.

"Shh, it's okay, I'm here," Tara could feel her body doubting it, but somehow her mind convinced her it was true. Willow was there.

The auburn haired witch didn't question her for answers, something for which Tara was highly grateful. She could tell her lover was concerned and rightly so, but she didn't think she could explain it at the moment.

Willow scared her, if she was being perfectly honest with herself. Not scare as in she was scared of her. More so that she was scared of losing her.

The red haired girl was already on a pathway of powerful magics, and Tara wondered if her worry had stirred up the old memory.

Eventually, she felt herself calming down and her tears subdued. Willow pressed a kiss to her forehead and she curled up in her girlfriend's arms, letting herself relax.

She was alright, and Willow was safe. If not for good, at least for the moment.


End file.
